in the rotten and the ghosts

“My bones are rotten,” it told me. “My rooms all filled with ghosts. Come inside and see for yourself. I’ll protect you as I swallow you up and guide you through the sagging floors where footsteps used to thump. Down the creaking stairs, don’t bump your head, to see where I buried my dead. I guess you could call it a garden of sorts, but the worms are all hungry now. That’s right, my dear, nestle into the dirt, it’ll soak up what’s left of your blood. It’s not a bad place to end things, you’ll see. Plenty more ghosts than just me.”